


Origin

by doodlesandrens



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Dragons, Kings & Queens, Knights - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 18:03:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13253685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodlesandrens/pseuds/doodlesandrens
Summary: The king is sick. As he did not have a child before his wife passed, and never remarried, he has no heir. He must appoint one, and to prove themselves to the kingdom, his heir will fight the dragon, a looming threat over the townspeople. Along with a group of three people of his choosing, the heir will face the most dangerous situations of his life.





	Origin

**Author's Note:**

> Original trash, by Ren.

The sun's bright and fiery orange colour was mocking Dean while he made his trek through the village and to the castle. He kept his chin ducked, unable to meet any of the people's eyes, as they clamoured to get to him, yelling out questions. "Who's going to fight the dragon?" An old man shouted off to his left, his two young daughters flanking him on either side. "Someone needs to tame the beast, Sir Dean! Our children may die because the king is too stubborn to lose any of his soldiers! Please, you have to send someone!"

Dean wasn't supposed to speak on the matter. He kept his lips sealed as he pushed through the crowd and towards the gates. When someone grabbed his hand, he reached for the hilt of his weapon, but then glanced down to find a little girl tugging at his fingers.  
"Please, sir," she whispered, her little doe eyes filled with tears, "my mama doesn't have much longer. She needs to see the dragon gone before she passes on." 

He swallowed the lump in his throat and gently bent down, putting a hand on her shoulder. "My condolences to your mother," he said softly, "but I cannot help you. The king makes his decisions as he chooses fit. We have to believe that he will make the best one for our kingdom." He stood back up, voice loud and booming, "Our king will make the right decision. Have you all no faith in our ruler? He has led us in the right direction plenty of times."

The townspeople whispered amongst each other, but then a hush fell over the crowd as the knight turned once more and continued his way to the castle.

On his way, another knight caught up to him. A paladin in training, he was, but he had just as much spunk as the true royal knights did. "Sir Dean," the young man said, "must we lie to the townspeople? The king has fallen ill and hasn't named an heir yet. If he is to fall, then what will happen? He has no family left! We cannot allow them to have false hope! We must not. Someone has to tell them."

Dean took a deep breath. "We cannot. We swore an oath to protect our king and his people. To betray that oath would mean death, Matthias, as you should understand. Such a boy like yourself, full of honour, you must respect the king's wishes to keep this under wraps. He is able to appoint an heir himself, as well, so that our kingdom does not fall into disaster without a ruler." He glanced at the younger man and sadly shook his head. "We must lie," he said, "for the sake of the people. If we tear away the little hope they have left, we will have nothing but ruins if the king returns to proper health. We cannot allow that to happen."

Once he got to the gates, Matthias was forced to disperse and find his comrades for training, leaving Dean to step into the castle alone. The air was thick with silence, the tension of the servants who led him to their king's chambers, the ones who desperately wanted to question him with the same things that young Matthias had. "I do not know," he told the maid. "I cannot be sure," he added to the butler. It was a long journey to the bedroom, but when he reached it, he kneeled before their king. 

He was sickly. His cheekbones were prominent and his smile was soft, but there, nonetheless. "Sir Dean," he greeted with an endless amount of affection, as if the man were his own son, "I appreciate you stopping by, but if you could handle not fretting, we would do a lot better."

"Is that the royal we?" Dean said, but then quickly added, "Your Royal Majesty."

"Don't bother. I've known you since you were young," the king laughed, but he broke off to cough, looking weaker by the second. When Dean moved to his side, he shook his head. "You're practically my nephew," he said gently, "you would have been raised a lord if your father hadn't been so stubborn in letting you grow up fending for yourself. Always had such a hard time with noblemen, he did." 

The knight gave a little smile. "If only you'd had a real nephew," he murmured, "then we wouldn't have to keep this from the townspeople. They're quite worried about the dragon. I... I am too."

"Yes," the king said, "and I must admit, the idea that the announcing of my heir must happen tonight is nerve-wracking. The townspeople will get together for a ceremony and I will announce who will take my place as the rightful ruler of our kingdom." He gently tilted his head up. "Would you like to know who it is, Dean?"

"Ah, sir," Dean gave a little laugh, "I think I can handle waiting until tonight. You need your rest, after all. I just stopped by because..." He paused. "Is it against any of my oath to admit I was worried for you?"

His king, practically family, shook his head and took his hand, wrapping both of his old and wrinkled ones around it. "My boy," he said, "it may just be a part of your oath to be worried about me." He tilted his chin up, giving a smile. "I'd like to tell you about my heir. Such a strong young man, the humblest, but you have better things to do." He pat Dean's hand. "Run off. Go find your friends and take a day off. My heir is the one who will be sent after the dragon, after all. The people will be glad their life is in his hands."

"Will I be glad?" Dean said, a teasing air in his words. He gave the king one more nod before he turned and headed to the door, pausing one last moment to lavish in the warm air of the man's chambers. He would most likely never step in this room once the king passed on. He doubted to be as close to the heir as he was to their current ruler. He took a deep breath, one that felt like it shook his entire body, and headed out of the room. He went down the hall, as far as he could, until he found the kitchen. 

"Alissa," he said when he spotted the young blonde, "I saw your brother earlier. I'm sure he forgot to mention it, but he cares about you." 

"I'm sure," she said, but smiled lopsidedly at him and reached for an apple. Taking a stance, she threw it to him forcefully. He narrowly caught it, as it would have hit him in the face, and he smiled. "You know, maybe this means you may reconsider my idea of females enlisting." She offered.

Dean laughed. "I'm not the king," he admitted, but waved the apple and took a bite. "I'm off to check with the paladins in training. I'll tell your brother you sent your best wishes."

After him, Alissa called, "don't tell him such lies, Sir Dean!"

He smiled and continued walking.


End file.
